


Playing With Fire

by gretaamyk



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Dom Spencer Reid, F/M, Spencer Reid Smut, Spencer Reid imagine, spencer reid x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretaamyk/pseuds/gretaamyk
Summary: When Spencer talks about his hidden personalities, Y/n asks about his ‘dominant’ one.Request: 21. hi! can i request a smut for spencer reid? (or mgg. whatever’s fine) just the purest filth you can come up with 👀 breeding kink, degrading, spitting in y/n’s mouth. thankss :)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 235





	Playing With Fire

Someone once said, “If you hang out with chickens, you’re going to cluck and if you hang out with eagles, you’re going to fly.” It was a quote made primarily for parents of kids with friends they don’t approve of, but even so, the meaning still stands. You will become who you surround yourself with, so pick your friends wisely.

I didn’t understand that as a kid. I was me, I wasn’t anybody else

Even when I went through my life actively proving the theory, I didn’t realize it. I could have been put in boxes of set personalities throughout my entire life. But I was still me.

But then, I realized what it meant. I had been working for the BAU for over a year, specifically under Penelope Garcia as a Technical Analyst. Or as Penelope called me, her protégé. I flocked to her as soon as we met, not only because she had a welcoming presence, but because our backgrounds were the same. I realized soon that after months of being locked in a room with her, I had become her. I picked up her various mannerisms. The way her voice would pick up when she got excited, or even the way she would flirt with Morgan for no reason other then she enjoyed it.

But I was not allowed to flirt with Morgan, she made that explicitly clear. So eventually, my adopted habit fell into somebody else, the other person I spent most of my days with. Spencer.

Spencer and I’s relationship was, for lack of a better word, unexpected. Not necessarily unexpected of me, anyone who knew me knew what I was like. But definitely unexpected of him. Our resident genius with a 187 IQ and a presumed virginity, up until the point where he started responding with equal allusiveness. It was rare when he played along, but I savored every little comment he made towards me like it was a candy I never got to buy.

No one in the office ever mentioned the flirting between the two of us. they were used to it with Morgan and Garcia. In fact, I’m sure that’s how they saw us. For the most part, I think that’s what we were supposed to be.

But it got difficult to describe. I had a bad habit of reading signals incorrectly, or living too far in my head, or even just coming on too strong at all. But sometimes, the lines defining us were blurred, and I couldn’t read them anymore. One minute our relationship would be strictly professional. But then the next, he’ll say something that makes me question everything.

But no matter how confusing it gets, Spencer Reid is my friend.

Presently, Spencer and I were called to help Penelope with party preparation. I was completing my work out for the week by doing several rounds up and down the stairs to bring groceries and decorations up to her apartment. On my last trip, I opened the door to see Penelope and Spencer talking in the kitchen.

“Hello?” I called with a singsong voice, placing the bags down on the counter.

Penelope turned around, with fake blood tears trickling down her cheeks. Spencer just stood awkwardly behind her, resembling a little kid struggling with a social situation.

“You alright, Penelope?” I asked, trying my best to stiffly the laugh in my throat. She sighed, clearly disappointed by my reaction, or lack-there-of.

“You…didn’t even flinch,” She said, discouraged. “JJ’s right. I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween, and she just laughed at me, and she said that I don’t have a scary side.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, genuinely feeling guilty for not playing along. “I’m sorry Pen,” I finally said, looking to Spencer for some help.

“If it makes you feel any better, you probably do.” Spencer consoled. We both turned to him curiously, he straightened his back up in the way that told me that he had knowledge on the fact that he was excited to share.

“Really?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah!” He said enthusiastically, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied, and multifaceted. Its essential to ones mental health to want to express these hidden personalities, and its just a fact of nature that everyone has one.” He explained, nodding along with his words as if that itself was an argument.

“Everybody?” I squinted curiously, a habit I picked up from him. I hopped up on the counter in-between grocery bags. “You have one?”

“Oh, absolutely, yeah.” he continued to nod. I glanced slyly at Penelope, who returned the look with equal inquisition and subtle enthusiasm. He squinted as he tried to decode our silent communication, so I clarified to make it easier.

“We want to see it.” I grinned and Penelope nodded expectantly. “We wanna see Dr. Spencer Reid’s hidden personality.”

He looked between the two of us and spit out a string of jumbled word fragments in attempt to form something salvageable. “Uh, you- uh, right… here? Right, like right now you wanna see it?” He tripped over his tongue. That was the bad part of having a brain that runs a mile a minute, your mouth can’t always keep up.

“I have fake blood running down my cheeks. Right here, right now.” Penelope said, sliding her pink glasses back onto her face, wanting to see him in HD.

“Okay,” He said with a sigh, “But once you see it, you cant un-see it.”

“Quit the theatrics, Shakespeare. Get on with it.” I teased, grabbing a handful of cereal out of the new box I opened up and shoveled cheerios into my mouth.

“Fine! Fine…” He trailed off, letting his eyes close and looked down at the ground. He put his hands on his neck and made a strained groaning sound, which almost reminded me of a Werewolf transformation in a bad teen movie. I raised my eyebrows and fed myself cereal like popcorn at a movie theatre. The show hadn’t even started, but I was already amused.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He finally spoke, peeking his head up stifly and thrusting his hand out in front of him. His voice and his face were both completely stoic. I recognized the quote immediately from a movie we watched together a few weeks ago. But I bit back the laugh that was my natural reaction, and decided to let him finish. “You’re thinking, did that guy just fire five shots? Or did that guy just fire six shots? You’re gonna have to ask yourself a question. Do you feel lucky, punk?” He trailed his words away, closing his eyes and his fingers, as if to say ‘And, Scene’.

“Boy Wonder! Wow!” I grinned brightly, clapping my hands together, “You could be the next Clint Eastwood!”

“That was Clint Eastwood. Dirty Harry.” He clarified plainly, nodding his head. Garcia nodded back with a small 'ah’. I rolled my eyes.

“I know, smartass, that’s why I said it.” I shot back, he ignored me.

“I know its not as effective as my dominant personality-”

Fuck.

I choked on the cheerios, cereal dust spewing into the air as I coughed. I hit my chest, clearing my throat, “Your what, now?”

He blushed, and his eyes frantically darted between me and Penelope. “You know… my dominant personality… as in my main personality.” He clarified. I felt myself burn up, realizing my mistake and suddenly finding the appeal in moving away and changing my name.

I opened my mouth to respond, but it felt like sandpaper. I wasn’t exactly sure what I could say that would make the situation any better. We just stood there in a painfully long, uncomfortable silence, until we were saved by the familiar ring of Penelope’s phone. She announced that we had a case, and I had never been more grateful for murder than in that moment.

Thank God.

-

At the end of the week, the case had ended and we were finally able to relax. The unsub was a man who found out he had ancestral ties to someone with a significant role in the Salem Witch Trials. He started having vivid hallucinations that played into the fantasy he had of being a Witch Hunter, and he started killing women whom he believed were witches.

Though my time and experience here weren’t exactly extensive, I figured that was an especially strange case. Even though it was over, I couldn’t bring my headspace back to anything normal. We were done, but I still stayed at the BAU. I had no work I needed to accomplish, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet. So instead, I became delving into work for next week, trying to get ahead. It wasn’t my job, I wasn’t a profiler like everyone else, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

Then the door swung open and I jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Spencer walking in, clearly amused by my reaction. We hadn’t spoken much since what happened at Penelope’s apartment. Not because things were awkward, though there might have been that too. But more, the cases take up all of our time, we don’t have any space left to tease each other like normal. Our lines may be blurred, but during cases we were strictly coworkers.

“Jesus, Spencer, you almost gave me a heart attack.” I exhaled, settling deeper into my seat. Even though he scared me, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable being alone with him, I was very  
happy that it was him that was still here so late.

“Oh, sorry.” He laughed, sitting down in Penelope’s chair and wheeling over to me. “What are you still doing here?”

“I didn’t feel like going home yet.” I answered plainly. It was true, but not entirely. For the sake of my sanity, I tried to keep work and home completely separate. I managed to leave the darkest parts of my life behind me, and like a flower, I bloomed into something greater than I’ve ever been. At work, I’m swarmed by the immense darkness the world is capable of. I don’t want to bring that home and infect the life I’ve worked so hard to fix. That includes the bad thoughts that swim through my brain like blood. They weren’t welcome in my home, so my solution was to wait until they were no longer there. It wasn’t faultless, but it was a plan. And for a majority of the time, it worked.

“Is everything okay…” He questioned though trailing away, distracted by the image on the screen in front of us. In the corner of the digital casefile was a man tied to a chair by red ropes. He furrowed his eyebrows, leaning into the desk on his elbows. “Open that picture, zoom in on his wrists.”

I raised my eyebrows at him before shrugging and complying, enhancing the image for him.

“Those are Shibari ropes. Japanese bondage.” He identified. I looked at him curiously.

“Oh, really? I know what those are, how do you know what those are?” I asked. I knew what the ropes were, but only after a google search. I knew Spencer was excessively well educated, but something tell me he never took a college course on BDSM. No. Either he’s done research in his free time, or he’s had first hand experience. And for some reason, both options made me feel something that I couldn’t explain.

“You know what they are? You must not be as innocent as I thought.” He laughed, enjoying the way my confident face faltered at the lewdness of his words. Spencer was clueless sometimes, especially when it comes to women. But I was positive that this time he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“They taught me in boy scouts,” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “How do you think?”

“Hold on,” I turned in my chair to face him more directly and confrontationally, “Are you telling me that you have experience with this?”

“All I’m saying is books can only teach me so much.” He said as if that was the most natural response he could think of. Though his answer only made me more disjointed, as did the way he wet his lips with his tongue. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pretended that I was completely unaffected.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Reid?” I joked, in the same way we always joke with each other. But it was simultaneously a serious question and I was genuinely curious of what he was trying to accomplish. Normally, he would blush profusely at my remarks and turn into a stuttering ball of nerves. But this time he didn’t.

“Why, is it working?”

I choked on my spit, surprised I didn’t fall out of my chair. He just laughed and leaned back, radiating a confidence I’ve never seen from him before, even compared to other times we were alone. I was happy to see him comfortable. But, it seemed like there was more behind it, he was playing with fire. I just hoped that he meant what he was saying, otherwise, he was going to get burnt.

“Come on, its late.” He waved me over as he stood up, “We can head out together.” He reached down and pressed the button to turn off the computers and its monitors. Instead of scolding him because of it, I found myself grabbing my things and following him with an eager obedience that was almost embarrassing.

It was safe to say my mine was no longer anywhere near those case files anymore, so so wouldn’t be breaking my rule by going home. But something told me, or at least it hoped, that I wouldn’t be going home yet. At least not alone. It was crazy how one minute he’s a sputtering mess, and the next he’s radiating a dominance I didn’t know he was capable.

Then I remembered the conversation. He had another side to him that I haven’t gotten to experience. But finding it was my full intention. He wanted to play with fire, but I held the torch.

“Spence, do you want me to give you a ride home?” I asked him, adjusting my bag over my shoulder, “I know you were planning on just taking the bus.”

He smiled and wet his lips with that damned tongue again. Why doesn’t he lick my lips for a change?

I felt weightless watching him, he was a movie that I could see a thousand times and not get bored. But Spencer was so much better than anyone in the movies. He was real.

“You could give me a ride any day.”

I stopped. That’s enough. If he wanted to play this game, then were gonna play. And I never lose.

“You okay?”

I hesitated, before eventually nodding a wordless response. He watched curiously as I put my bag on the ground and sat down on his desk, flattening out my skirt. I looked up at him and swiped my tongue quickly across my lips as a subconscious mimic of his prevalent habit. “Do you remember that conversation we had last week? At Pen’s place?”

He shifted in his stance, before taking a quick glance of the room to make sure it was empty. “How could I forget?”

“Right…” I leaned back on my hands, “I want to know more about this… dominant personality of yours.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He paranoiacally looked once more around the room before he finally humored me. “I told you. It just means it’s my main-”

I cut him off, “That’s not what I mean and you know it-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” He commanded. I couldn’t help but grin, pulling my lips smugly in-between my teeth.

“There it is.” I hummed contently.

He scoffed, “You don’t know what your talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” I laughed, watching and appreciating the way his face twisted. “Spencer, you just implied that you have experience with Japanese bondage. I think I know more than you think.” I reached out and grabbed his tie. I didn’t pull him closer, but he came closer on his own. I just ran the maroon fabric slickly between my fingers. I cleared my throat before speaking again, “Do you remember how I got the job here?”

“I remember everything, Y/n.” His eyes trailed down the length of my body and I tried to pretend it did nothing to me. I looked at him, urging him to continue. He sighed. “You were a hacker. And we caught you.”

“That’s right, Mr. F-B-I,” I exaggerated the enunciation each initial, as if that itself was a point I was working to prove. “I was a criminal, and you caught me. Tell me, was there ever a time where you wanted to, you know… use those fancy handcuffs of yours?” I trailed my foot up his pant leg. He one-upped me, placing his hands on the desk on either side of my body. His face was mere inches from mine, and I could feel his cool breath on my face. His breath was fresh and minty. Of course it was. The man was perfect, and his hygiene was clearly no exception.

“Is that what you want?” He asked, as if it wasn’t obvious. The heartbeat in my core was a drumming that I swore was loud enough to hear. I remained expressionless, even almost bored. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of seeing just how badly I wanted it.

“Hmm.” My eyes scanned his form as I pretended to think. But I didn’t need to think at all, I’ve been imagining him bending me over this very desk since the first day I saw him. Finally, I looked back up at him through batted lashes. An angle of me I’m sure he could get used to. “You’re the profiler here. You tell me.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, his lips crashed into mine. I smiled into the kiss at the easy win I earned. I tangled my hands into his messy hair and pulled him in, urging him to go deeper. I opened my mouth to allow him access, he traced his tongue across my lip in the same way I had previously wished he would.

His hands cupped my cheeks in a way that was almost sweet, and I moaned softly into his mouth.

But then as quickly as he came, he retreated. He flipped my body over with no warning, harshly slamming my front into the wood. I swore at the bruising feeling, though it was strangely satisfying and brought a prominent slickness between my thighs.

His large hand found the space between my shoulder blades and pushed down forcefully. The other hand traced up the back of my thigh, before moving under my short skirt and settling on my rear. My eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his hands, the very ones that have clouded my fantasies for over a year.

“You think you’re fucking cute?” He taunted, squeezing my ass harshly and forcing a whimper out of my mouth. “You’re not. You’re just a needy fucking whore, who thinks she can get whatever you want by laying yourself out for me on my desk.” He moved himself to be directly behind me, I could feel the growing bulge through his pants.

“That’s because I always do, Dr. Reid.” I replied, wiggling my ass against his bulge. His hands gripped my hips harshly, his fingers digging so tightly into my flesh I swore he was summoning bruises.

“You’re so fucking mouthy.” He tsked. Then I heard a familiar metal jingling sound coming from him, my eyes widened and I tried to look over my shoulder to see if my suspicions were correct.

Handcuffs.

He was taking all of my suggestions, which only filled me with more satisfaction. Sure, he might think he was in charge, but every little thing I mentioned to him he applied. I was in charge, whether he knew it or not.

His hands gripped my wrists as he handcuffed them together. The material was icy cold against my skin and I gasped at their contrast to his warm hands.

“Looks like you caught me again, Agent.”

“Shut the fuck up. Get on your knees,” He commanded, grabbing me by the chain of my handcuffs and yanking me to the ground. I winced at the sharp pain in my wrists, but the pain also excited me in a way I’ve never felt before. He grabbed me by the jaw and forced my mouth open. Naturally, I stuck my tongue out. He bent down, his face once again again so close to mine. Part of me wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but part of me knew that that was an inherent softness he wasn’t looking for. The same part of me that knew that this side of him existed at all. It hadn’t been wrong so far.

He looked me directly into my eyes as he spat, letting it fall onto my tongue. I closed my mouth again and swallowed.

He hummed a wordless praise while his hands undoing his belt and his zipper. “Why don’t we put that mouth to use?”

He pushed his pants and boxers down on one fluid motion, relieving his painfully hard erection. My eyes widened, a reaction that filled him with an arrogance that annoyed me. My instinct would have to wrap my hand firmly around his base, to wipe the smug smile off his face. But I moved my hands to be greeted by a painful reminder of my restraints.

So his hand found a firm grip in my hair, creating a lazy ponytail, and guiding me into his length. I flattened my tongue and dragged it all the way up, before wrapping my lips around his swollen head.

A guttural moan slipped out from the back of his throat, which was like music to my ears. I swirled my tongue around his head, swiping away the beads of precum away. Then slowly, I took an inch of him into my mouth before pulling away. His hand on the back of my head only pushed me all the way down his shaft.

I gagged once he hit the back of my throat, so I pressed down on the pressure point on my thumb to mute the reflex. I started to move my head up and down on his length, his hand guiding me until we found a rhythm.

“Good girl,” he praised out quietly. I moaned in response, and the vibrations resonated through him and forced a moan out from his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut as his breath became errant. His head fell back, to which I mentally praised myself for my efforts.

The friction of the carpet was bloodying to my knees, but I didn’t let my motions falter. I needed to hear the lewd noises of moans and praise coming out of his mouth, because even at my expense, it was ultimately for my benefit. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, finding it impossible to breath at the same time. Still, I proceeded, up until the point where he harshly yanked me off of him. I fell back from my position on my knees, hitting the ground.

“Get up!” He commanded, I struggled to obey with the lack of use and feeling in my hands. Eventually he sighed and grabbed me by my shoulders and easily yanked me back up before forcefully returning me to my position, bent over in the desk. The breath was forced from my lungs as I was slammed against the polished wood. “Useless bitch, can’t do anything without help.”

“I-I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Yeah, you fucking better be.” He scoffed, hiking my skirt up past my hips and my soaked panties down my legs. I stepped out of them, he picked them up and reached around me to put them in my mouth. “Open. I’m tired of hearing you speak.”

I opened my mouth, accepting the cloth. I tasted my own arousal, wet on my tongue.

Then without warning, he slammed into me entirely. I gasped through the muffle of the fabric. He slipped easily out before once again bottoming out inside of me. His movements picked up to evenly paced thrusts that case with the regularity of waves crashing on the beach. His moans were quiet, but apparent, and I allowed for them to resonate within me and build me up. The harsh pressure of the tables ledge against my hips only added to my uncontrolled desperation.

“You look so hot like this,” He said, his voice strained between moans, “Gagged, and letting me use you however I fucking want. I bet you like being used, huh, you little whore?”

I whimpered out in response, feeling far to overwhelmed to speak, even if I wasn’t gagged. He continued to thrust into me with so much power that his supplies and novelties were falling off and hitting the floor. I felt him up in my chest and selfishly wished that he could stay there forever.

“You feel so good,” He praised under his breath, at a decibel I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear. But I did, and I felt my toes curl in my shoes. It was a rare mix of praise and censure that was what made my head spin, but Spencer was somehow able to do it perfectly and I was already teetering on the edge of my release.

Spencer’s firm grip on my hips was the only stability I was able to maintain without my own hands. The jingling of the chain link restraints were an audible reminder of how much power he had over me. He owned my body, I just didn’t know it until now. However something told me that he knew all along, and he was just waiting to render.

His thrusts moved parallel with his breathing; from composed to frantic in just a matter of moments. The noises that slipped off his tongue was so incredibly beautiful that it seemed almost as if I had died and gone to heaven. I gagged on the fabric as I moaned out, desperate for my release, but not willing to without permission.

I felt his pulsating cock twitch inside me and I knew he was nearing his release too.

“You wanna come, don’t you, filthy girl?” he asked, his hand snaking around to my front and rubbing my clit in natural circles. I felt like I was about to pass out from the overwhelming stimulation. “Do you?” I whimpered and nodded rapidly, feeling tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Come for me, you fucking whore, show me who you belong to.”

I came immediately to his approval, feeling like I was melting into a puddle as I finished. My legs shook under my body, to the point where I was weak in all my limbs. He continued to fuck me to the point of overstimulation, and I thought that he was going to split me in half.

He eventually followed suit, his words an incoherent mess of swears and moans. His thrusts went erratic before he finally emptied himself inside me, filling me with his warmth. I just wished that I could see the look on his face as he was overwhelmed with pleasure, though the idea alone could have been enough to make me come all over again.

He then tiredly slipped himself out of me before tucking himself back into his pants. He helped me dress up, but cursed when he saw the bruises that he had painted across my flushed skin. I spat out the panties from my mouth and breathed heavily.

“Ah, shit, these are bad.” He said, digging the key the handcuffs out of his pocket. He undid the clasps, and I sighed content my as I stood up, stretching out my fingers to stimulate blood flow. He stopped me and grabbed me by the wrists again, only this time his touch was overwhelmingly soft and sweet. Though if it was anything harsher, I might have cried in pain from my now raw wrists.

“I’m so sorry,” He pleaded looking up at me in a way that resembled a kicked puppy. “I was incredibly irresponsible using these, I don’t have the proper things to treat the marks.”

“I have hand lotion in my bag,” I suggested. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. Aftercare was one of the most important parts of sex, and I think it bothered him that he couldn’t take care of me as well as he wanted. Though, the sentiment was there, and that in itself was healing.

He dug through my bag before finding my aloe-vera hand lotion. He squirted some into his hands, before rubbing them together, and then gently massaging them into the red marks in my wrists. I just watched as he did, smiling to myself at the effort.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated again, his face reading with overwhelming guilt. “I shouldn’t have done that. Next time, I’ll be sure to have the proper supplies-”

“Next time?” I perked up, “There’s gonna be a next time?”

His face dropped, and his mouth melded into different shapes as he tried to speak but nothing came out. I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head, putting my finger up to stop him.

“I’d love for there to be a next time.” I said honestly, and his face immediately relaxed. “But for now, let’s worry about deleting the security footage.”

“Oh shit!” He jumped away from me, as if that would make us look any less guilty. “I’ll do that, you clean up.”

I nodded and hopped off his desk. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, grateful that no one besides Spencer would see me looking like this. No one would see, as long as Spencer succeeds in destroying the evidence. The idea, however, made me nervous. Spencer was a genius, but he could work my body infinitely better than he could any technology.

When I came back out, Spencer was waiting for me at the front door. He held my bag and my jacket, I thanked him and took them back. I slid on my coat, but couldn’t help but furrow my eyebrows at the pleased smirk that laid plastered on his face.

“What did you do?” I asked, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.

He responded wordlessly by holding up a small silver flash drive. My eyebrows widened and my mouth fell into a small ‘O’ as I processed what that meant. I would have scolded him if I wasn’t admittedly impressed.

“I won.”


End file.
